


Let This Night Bind Us

by JonsaInTheNorth



Series: Tormented Nights [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Half-Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 17:59:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7855297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonsaInTheNorth/pseuds/JonsaInTheNorth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: When they still think of each other as siblings, Sansa asks Jon to help her find comfort post-Ramsay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let This Night Bind Us

Jon hears Sansa’s screams one night on his errant wanderings through the halls of Winterfell, too awake to sleep. Her shriek pierces through the air outside the Lady’s Chambers, and he dashes into the room without considering the impropriety of it all.

She sits in her bed, knees pulled against her chest. She says his name softly, like a prayer she is afraid to have answered.“Jon?”

He pulls her into his arms, and murmurs words into her hair as Sansa shakes beneath him. “What’s wrong, Sansa?”

“I cannot close my eyes without seeing his face behind my lids.” Her speech is weak and barely audible, voice trembling even more than the woman. “I cannot lay down without feeling his hands against my skin. I cannot breath without being imprisoned by his memory in the fibers of my soul.

“No soft touch have I felt, even though Father promised me a gentle and kind knight…” She buries her face against his chest. Sansa croaks, “Jon …  _please_.”

Jon rocks her steadily. “Yes?”

“Will you help me?”

“Anything you ask that I can do, I will.” 

Sansa tilts her head up to hold his gaze, and cradles his face in her hand. “I need to feel whole again. I need this feeling gone.”

“I-”

Her lips are soft as they collide with his own. Jon starts, but accepts her frazzled touch. It is brief and short, like a gentle summer breeze, and he cannot deny her anything. She pushes him away, sudden and forceful. “I- go, please. Not now, but  _please,_ Jon.”

Her words confuse him as he goes, rising off the bed and going back to his wanderings. It is the way she said please that haunts him until their next late night encounter, echoing in his head like some forlorn march, again and again:  _please_ , Jon,  _please._

* * *

 

It is three nights later that she comes to him, as he stares at the deep red canopy above his head, escaping sleep again. Jon bolts upright when his door creaks open. She stands as a shadow in his doorway, only the bright head of fire revealing her identity as the hall’s torch glances off its strands.

“Please.”

He barely discerns the words in her whimper. Sansa steps closer. “I need to feel whole again, to feel  _safe_.”

Draped only in a thin white shift, her curves are visible now in the glow of his hearth. “Sansa-”

She perches besides him, the bed sinking under her. The sides of her shift is peeled away, one and then another, until her whole body is visible in soft light. She presses herself against him, crawling up the featherbed to close the little space there is between them. 

And finally, a union, strange but natural, like a bee alighting atop a flower.

He is all gentle kisses and soft touches, light gasps against her skin as they discover every inch of one another. But she is full of hurried grasping and the furious scrapes of her fingernails against his bare back, lost in this world of love and shared bliss she had thought impossible until now.

It should feel so wrong, tangled in the sheets with his sister, but nothing has ever felt this right since he left Winterfell. As he thinks this, her voice from all the years of their childhood whispers in his mind:  _half-_ brother,  _bastard_ brother, and he knows they have never truly looked at one another that way. Even at Castle Black and their march across the North, Sansa was his guiding light, Jon was her risen knight; to each, the other was only this:  _salvation_.

Sansa keeps her noises to herself, bites her lips to keep her pleasure be heard by any. Jon kisses her hard, and nips at her bottom lip, but still he is as tender he can be; he does not want to hurt her. “Let me hear you. There’s no shame in your sound.”

The feeling of her is foreign to him, hot and soft and  _home_. Her moves are unsteady and unsure yet somehow well practiced. Jon learns the scrapes against her skin, the scars and marks that mar her beauty but enhance her inner strength. In turn, Sansa accustoms herself to the places where death claimed him. Together, they are one.

He enters her with a slow motion, but her hips meet his with force. Sansa tries to find a place of power in their dance and seizes it all when he offers it. They move together as one pair. 

No one will know what passes between them. None will ever know that Sansa found herself again through Jon, through this unholy bond. The old gods and the new may watch, but none on earth can tear them apart in this moment for it is theirs alone.

After, as she lies in silence with her head against his chest, her soft words startle him away from his wildly galloping mind. “Thank you.”

“Sansa-” She sets a finger against his lips. Sansa rises and slips her shift over her shoulders. 

“Thank you, Jon. Good night.”   
  
And with that, she goes and leaves the questions in the air. But those are words they will not say for many more years, and even then this night will go unspoken.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out and fangirl about Jonsa and other ASOIAF/GOT goodness with me on [tumblr](http://jonsa-in-the-north.tumblr.com).


End file.
